Seven Poems by Mike Andrelczyk
Mike Andrelczyk
The following poems were originally published in Fluland.
Vapors
Like when I was
Out of my head
Like a tree
Shot full of lightning
And everything was clouded
With a purple film
And I didn’t talk
But just sat
Entranced in narcotic waves
Of nostalgia
Going nowhere like Bart Simpson
On a skateboard
On a loop
On a skateboard
Like Bart Simpson
On a loop
On a skateboard
On a loop
WASHED
Cracked seashells shimmering among random
flotsam and jetsam scattered in the tidelands
by the vaudeville duo of Ebb and Flow.
Along with mirages of Dutch coins, a beer can,
a music box made of sea glass,
an old TV set
washed up on the shoreline yesterday.
It was playing the movie “Blue Velvet.”
So I sat in the sand and watched Frank take
deep gulps of nitrous oxide
as I inhaled
the salt in the air
and made weird faces for nobody.
Later, with the fishbones and broken
oars from invisible boats I found a registration
form for a pilot’s license.
Name. Address. Date of Birth. Worst Novel You Ever Read. Hat Size.
I filled it out and tossed it into the sea.
Three weeks later, beside a rusty fishing hook and a toy
shovel, I spy an envelope with my name on it
And inside is
my newly issued pilot’s license.
World 6-1
Stepping from the empty black doors into a breezy night. The stars play
my theme song. No choice but to start
Sprinting, outrunning the man in the clouds,
Getting bigger, getting smaller, no time to stop and marvel at the hypnotic
plants. The timer continues so I rush ahead, nearly jumping into the abyss,
And barely clearing that, I push forward, run up the steps
And ride the flag all the way down
and the stars play me out
As I duck back into the void.
Rug
if you ever get to the point where you can afford
to buy a house
don’t bother purchasing a rug,
because, eventually, they are just going to
pull it out from under you
and probably steal your armadillo lamp too.
Zen Burnout
The way is the way is the way
Is the way is the way -
Hey man
Which is the way to the way
And
What day is it
Today?
Pizzazz
Pizzazz is the ability to charm the pants off
A hungry female tiger
right before she licks
Your bones clean
And also
pizzazz is
A pizza
Two-thirds
Of the way to falling asleep.
Marmalade Dove
The marmalade dove shivers in the crystal
candy dish eye of the jelly sun.
It takes all day to get to the country
we suck on moon flavored lies to pass the time.
We rest awhile under the burning leaves of onyx tree
The shadows coo like the marmalade dove.
We whip the invisible oxen as we haul your birthday cake
to your party but when we get there
All we find is an otherwise empty graveyard
and a single glowing man eating sherbet.
“Popsicles?” He asks.
In the purple scent of hyacinths we lick the icing from
each other’s fingers and sing “Happy Birthday”
To everyone who is not here.
Mike Andrelczyk lives with his wife in Strasburg, PA. He is the author of a poetry chapbook called "The Iguana Green City" which can be purchased here (Ghost City Press, 2018). His other work can be found on his website, but also catch him on Twitter @MikeAndrelczyk.